


the itch

by the human eyes emoji (nicole_writes)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Day 2: Games, Day 3: Confession, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, For Sylvgrid NSFW Weekend, Friends With Benefits, Gratuitous Smut, Porn With Plot, Romantic Comedy, Roommates, day 1: teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/the%20human%20eyes%20emoji
Summary: Dorothea and Hilda got her thinking about it, so really, it's their fault. Entirely.It has nothing to do with unsaid feelings whatsoever. / for sylvgrid nsfw weekend
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 36
Kudos: 96
Collections: Sylvgrid NSFW weekend 2020





	1. i - teasing

**Author's Note:**

> For Nightsdawn, the lovely mod of this weekend, who has encouraged us so much over in the Sylvgrid Discord. For Mish, who I'm hoping to break entirely with the title alone. For Sunni, who is crazy enough to support us all. For Jul, who has been panicking while taking on this weekend with me. For Emi, who breaks us all so consistently that I have to break my twinnie back somehow. For Ash, who kept prodding me until I shared waaaaay too many snippets and hyped me up anyways. 
> 
> Basically for the Sylvgrid discord...
> 
> First time NSFW, I'm pretty sure I need to just hit post and run and hide from my computer now...

**i - teasing**

* * *

Ingrid didn’t know how she got stuck with Hilda and Dorothea at the bar. Mercedes, Annette, and Byleth had all been present at one point, but Annette had a meeting with her faculty advisor the next morning so she had dipped out relatively early. Mercedes and Byleth had left shortly after since they lived the farthest away from the bar. 

Ingrid should have left with them when they had asked. Dorothea and Hilda were chatting idly about some date that Ferdinand had taken Dorothea on recently and Ingrid was about a minute away from heading out when the conversation changed gears. 

“So Ferdie,” Hilda drawled. “Is he any good?” She was cupping her chin innocently, her pink eyes gleaming. 

Dorothea laughed. “He’s certainly not as experienced as I am in that department, but we’ll call him eager and a willing learner.” She winked and Ingrid felt herself blushing. 

Hilda just laughed and sipped from her drink. “Not the best you’ve ever been with?”

Dorothea shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, if Ferdie was half as good as my best, I’d call it a success.”

Hilda raised an eyebrow. “And who, pray tell, was good enough to completely ruin sex for you forever?”

Dorothea’s gaze darted to Ingrid and she smiled wickedly. “Not that I’d ever tell him, since his ego is already large enough as is, but _goddamn_ Sylvain Gautier has a good tongue.”

Ingrid immediately smothered her face with her hands at the mention of her roommate’s name. “Dorothea!” she yelped. Hilda and Dorothea both laughed at her. 

“I can see it,” Hilda agreed. “He was a damn good kisser. Reminds me of Claude in that manner and, not that I’d ever bed Claude again, but if Sylvain is anything like Claude was then I’m sure he’s excellent.”

“Aw, poor Caspar not measuring up to Claude in that department?” Dorothea teased, momentarily giving Ingrid a second to breathe. 

Hilda shrugged. “Caspar is energetic and he’s great, but Claude had very,” her gaze turned wicked, “ _very_ good hands.”

Ingrid felt like she was going to die. Hilda and Dorothea were so much more confident in their bodies and their previous escapades than she was. Plus, hearing the fact that Hilda and Dorothea had both kissed Sylvain on top of Dorothea having slept with him, was not helping her sanity. 

“Can we talk about literally anyone else?” Ingrid mumbled, still covering her face. 

Dorothea giggled. “Alright, Ing, how about you tell us about your best then?”

“I love Ashe and Ignatz both, but they’re both terribly shy. I can’t imagine that either of them was particularly magical,” Hilda pointed out. 

Ingrid looked up to defend her past boyfriends, both of whom she was now good friends with, but the knowing look on Hilda’s face killed her argument before it started. She shifted on her stool, feeling a bit uncomfortable under both Dorothea and Hilda’s gazes. 

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I haven’t had any particularly wonderful experiences.”

Hilda clicked her tongue. “A shame. You’re definitely hot enough to score. Maybe we can fix that.” Hilda instantly started scouting around the bar and Ingrid’s face went right back to completely flushed. 

“Hilda!” she hissed. 

Dorothea hummed. “We don’t need to look for her, Hil,” Dorothea said. Ingrid relaxed and almost thanked her until Dorothea winked. “She’s got the perfect candidate back at her apartment.”

Hilda giggled. “God, yes! Just bang Sylvain, Ingrid. Then you’ll understand what all the fuss is about.”

Ingrid stood up abruptly, not even bothering to finish her drink. She inhaled shakily and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “I have to go. I have a review to finish this weekend. I’ll see you guys later.”

With that, she grabbed her coat and dumped a twenty on the table to cover her tab before walking away. She pulled her coat tight around herself and tried to ignore the way her face was still burning bright red. 

So what if Sylvain was Dorothea’s best lay ever. He was one of her oldest friends and she definitely didn’t need a reason to think of him differently. Sure, he was attractive as all hell. Everyone knew that, including him. He was still Sylvain: womanizer and flirt that Ingrid definitely didn’t need to think about in that way. 

She hailed a cab outside the bar and rattled off her address to the driver. She fidgeted almost all the way back to the apartment, trying desperately not to think of Sylvain that way. It was, unfortunately, not too hard to picture what he might look like since it seemed like some days he had an aversion to shirts around the apartment. Plus, he did the infuriating boy thing where he’d walk into her room shirtless, lean against her door frame, and just put his whole beautiful, stupidly well-proportioned torso on display. 

She rubbed her thighs together and huffed. 

The cab stopped outside the apartment building and she paid the driver before jumping out. The cab drove off and she hesitated for a moment outside of the apartment. Felix was out of town this weekend, spending time with his father, and Sylvain was supposed to be out on a date. He had promised he wouldn’t bring anyone home tonight, but Ingrid knew that meant that he probably wouldn’t be back at the apartment until tomorrow. 

She let herself in and was surprised to see the lamp by the sofa was on. She slipped her boots off and wandered into the apartment. Sylvain was, to her surprise, sitting on the sofa, flipping through one of his large criminal law textbooks. He had his glasses on and headphones in so he didn’t notice her as she entered, just continuing to tap his highlighter against the page as he read. 

Ingrid dropped her purse onto one of the barstools at the counter and reached over the couch to pull one of his earbuds out. Sylvain jerked, dropping his pen, and snapped his head towards her. He relaxed when he saw it was her, pressing a button on his headphones’ cord to stop his music before he pulled his other earbud out. He twisted, throwing an arm over the back of the couch so that he could kind of face her. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “How was girls’ night?”

Ingrid shrugged. “It was good. Weren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “She stood me up. Apparently I may have taken her sister out last month and I don’t think she took too kindly to that.”

Ingrid sighed. “Of course you did.” She walked around the edge of the couch and sat next to him. She threw her feet up into his lap and reached for the TV remote. “Do you mind?”

He shook his head, closing his textbook around his pen. “I’m not really focusing anyway.”

Ingrid turned the TV on and aimlessly flipped to a channel that was playing some lame TV rerun. “Dorothea says hello,” she said after a second, passing on their mutual friend’s greeting. 

Sylvain smiled. One of his hands absently rubbed along the inside of Ingrid’s ankle and calf. Normally, this would have been typical. There was nothing weird about this interaction for them, but tonight, with Ingrid’s mind so thoroughly in the gutter, the touch made her skin tingle, even through her jeans. 

She jerked her feet out of his lap, drawing them to her chest and Sylvain froze, turning to face her, his eyebrows knitting. Ingrid stared at him, trying to control the bubbling panic in her chest. Sylvain looked worried. 

“You okay?” he asked. He leaned a bit closer to her. “You look kind of flushed. Did you drink too much?”

He looked stupidly sexy with his glasses on and she felt like her entire body was burning. He was closer to her now: much, much closer than she could tolerate him being. She wasn’t entirely in control of herself when she brought a hand up to tentatively touch his shoulder. Sylvain’s concern melted into curiosity and he angled his shoulders towards her. 

Holding her breath, Ingrid slid her hand up along his neck to his jaw. His gaze darted to her lips once and Ingrid’s resolve broke. Despite every fibre of her being screaming that this wasn’t what she and Sylvain did–that this wasn’t how their relationship worked–she leaned forward and drew his lips to hers. 

Sylvain’s kiss was soft and tentative. His lips were warm and he kept them just barely parted to keep the kiss in safer territory. Ingrid, still buzzing from her growing number of bad decisions, pressed her tongue against the seal of his lips. Sylvain’s hand came up to cup the back of her head as he opened his mouth to her, pressing back with his tongue. He hummed against her and Ingrid tilted her body towards him. 

The hand not holding her head touched the silky material of her top and tugged, pulling her even closer. Ingrid rocked forward and her knee met his thigh before sliding up and over it so that she was effectively straddling him. Sylvain’s tongue grazed hers as he grew bolder in his kiss. Ingrid brought both hands up to grasp at his hair as she touched the soft, short red locks. 

The hand at her head dropped to her waist. His other hand was on her back, applying gentle pressure to keep them pressed almost chest-to-chest. Sylvain bit her lip gently and drew back a bit. Ingrid followed him like he was a magnet and continued the hot, open-mouthed kiss until she couldn’t breathe. She broke the contact of her lips just enough to inhale. 

In the second that oxygen rushed back into her brain, she became hyperaware of her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist and back. She was still straddling him, framing his hips with her legs and their torsos were pressed together. She was dizzy and her lips were tingling and there was the slightest pressure against her hips that hadn’t been there when they had started kissing. 

She recoiled sharply, almost pitching off of Sylvain onto the floor, but his hands tightened, catching her before she could. She ripped her hands from his hair and they flailed for a moment before landing on his shoulders. She stared at Sylvain in shock. 

His hair was thoroughly mussed–thanks to her–and he was staring at her as well. His lips were parted and tinged pink from the previous intensity of their kiss. He looked mildly confused as to why Ingrid had just ripped herself away from him. He slid his hands down so that he was holding the outside of her thighs to keep her balance as he just watched her, waiting for her to say something. 

“I didn’t mean to do that!” Ingrid blurted. She absolutely had not intended to kiss Sylvain, much less engage in the steamiest make-out she’d ever had. 

He raised an eyebrow. “The kissing part or the climbing onto my lap like some kind of master seducer part?”

Ingrid flushed and smacked his shoulder. “All of it!” she yelped. 

Sylvain studied her face. “So are you going to tell me why we just shared a very excellent make-out session?”

Ingrid groaned and looked up at the ceiling,l dodging his gaze. “Hilda and Dorothea had been talking about best kisses and best lays and for some reason, it served to highlight my own inadequacy in that area plus my,” she winced, “recent dry spell.” She paused. “Wait, did you just say very excellent?”

Sylvain’s hands stroked the outside of her thighs slowly and he smiled lazily. “I did.” She stared at him and tried to ignore the very pleasant tingles going through her legs again. “So Thea and Hilda, huh? Dorothea still tells me I’m her worst lay ever so I don’t see how I tie into this.”

Ingrid tried to glare at him, but she was both too embarrassed and also too distracted by the way that he was still touching her. “It was just a wrong place, wrong person thing, Sylvain,” she excused. 

She tried to pull away from him, but his hands tightened, holding her in place. He tilted his head to the side and his brown-amber eyes bore into her. “So we’re just going to pretend that this didn’t happen? I just so happened to be in the wrong place?”

“Yes,” she said weakly. 

“I don’t believe you,” he replied cheerfully. He leaned towards her and Ingrid squirmed, but she couldn’t lean away or else she would fall off of him. Sylvain took advantage of the position and tilted his head, leaning in to press a single open-mouthed kiss to her neck. 

Ingrid’s breath trembled as she tried to focus on anything else. “Sylvain,” she said firmly. 

He pulled back and stared at her. “Are you complaining? Because, Ing, if it’s an itch you need to scratch–”

She tensed and he stopped mid-sentence. “An itch?” she demanded. “You?”

He winced. “Not me, per se, just if you needed,” he trailed off, brushing his thumb over the top of her thigh in a pretty clear ending to the phrase. 

Rational, normal Ingrid would have been off of his lap before this conversation had even begun. Whatever Ingrid she was tonight, hesitated. 

“It wouldn’t be weird?” she mumbled, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. 

Sylvain laughed lightly and he squeezed her legs briefly. “Not unless we made it weird,” he assured. “It can be one and done and never spoken of again.”

Ingrid exhaled. She had already made it weird. If Sylvain thought it didn’t have to be weird, then she might as well test Dorothea’s claim. “You’re okay with this.”

Sylvain gave her a funny look. “You’re hot, Ingrid. And, if I’m allowed to be honest, I’ve considered _things_ with the way you walk around in those pyjama shorts you have.” Something changed in Sylvain’s gaze and he tugged on her legs, sliding her back down his lap closer to him again. “On one condition though.”

She blushed. “What?”

“You tell me exactly what Dorothea said that made you start to think about this.”

Ingrid inhaled shakily. “Her words, not mine.”

Sylvain hummed and let one hand slide to her back. He pushed gently on her lower back, settling her even further on his lap at the same time as his own hips tipped upward the tiniest bit. Ingrid lost all the air in her lungs as their hips rocked together in a very, _very_ suggestive motion. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. 

“Sylvain,” she said. 

“Hm?” he hummed innocently. “I’m still waiting, Ingrid.”

She closed her eyes. “Thea said you were her best. She said,” Ingrid swallowed, trying to force the words out, “that you have a talented tongue.”

She risked a peek at his expression. He looked surprised for a moment before it smoothed over into a cocky smirk. She was about to pull away, saying it was a bad idea when Sylvain leaned forward and pulled her into another kiss. She wanted to resist, but his lips were hot and one of his hands slid under her shirt to palm at the bare skin of her back. 

Ingrid leaned into him, rocking her hips once. Sylvain nipped at her lip and she gasped slightly. He soothed it with his tongue before pulling back a little. His gaze was heady and dark as his palm pushed her shirt up another inch. 

“Are we going to do this?” he asked, his voice low and suggestive. 

Her breath caught and she nodded. He kissed her again, slowly this time, like he was savouring it and then he pulled back. One of his hands slid around to cup her ass and press her down against him. Ingrid could feel his hardening length rock against her and she rolled her hips into Sylvain’s touch, letting him guide her. 

He let out a breathy sigh. “We may want to take this to a bed unless you want to deface the sofa,” he teased. 

Ingrid brushed a strand of her blonde hair out of her face. “Right,” she agreed faintly. She felt suddenly a bit self-conscious at the thought of going to bed with Sylvain. She would be joining the ranks of so many girls who he had fucked and then dumped and although they had promised nothing would change, she couldn’t help but feel nervous. 

Sylvain must have picked up on it because he pressed a kiss to her jaw and began working his way back towards her ear. She felt his teeth prick lightly at the skin just below her ear before he whispered: “Let’s go to your room, then.”

She didn’t get to reply before he slid both hands under her knees and lifted her up. She squeaked in surprise, latching her arms around his neck and shoving her head over one of his shoulders as he stood, holding her legs up around his hips. Sylvain took advantage of the position to nip at her neck again. 

“Hold on,” he instructed. 

He carried her into her room and strode calmly over to her bed, pressing the occasional kiss to the side of her neck. He put her down on her butt and knelt half on the bed as he leaned forward to kiss her again. Ingrid hesitated, glancing past him to the bedroom door he had left open. 

He glanced back and a grin spread across his face. “Felix isn’t here,” he reminded and Ingrid flushed darker. He tilted his head. “Afraid of making a little noise?” He nipped at her shoulder over the neckline of her shirt. 

“Felix isn’t here,” Ingrid repeated, mostly for her own sanity. 

Sylvain pushed his knee forward, between her legs and guided her down until she was lying on her back. He kept one knee between hers and put the other on the other side of her leg. He leaned down and kissed her firmly again. His thigh rocked forward, pressing at the inner seam of her jeans and Ingrid sighed into the kiss. Sylvain paused in kissing her and repeated the motion, watching her face with a smirk. 

Ingrid managed to suppress the breathy moan building in her throat and tried to glare at him. He rocked forward again and this time his length bumped her hip as his thigh rubbed the apex of her thighs. Sylvain seemed to take great pleasure in watching her shift beneath him, both trying to get him to stop and also repeat the motion. 

His thumb fiddled with the button on her jeans and he made eye contact with her. “Still good, Ing?”

She nodded. “Good,” she replied. 

Sylvain grinned and flicked the button open. He leaned back a little, relieving the pressure between her legs as he unzipped the fly of her jeans. He was agonizingly slow with the movement and he intentionally rocked his crotch against her thigh as he worked the zipper down. 

“Sylvain,” she hissed. 

“Hm?” he said innocently, batting his eyelashes at her. 

“What are you doing?” she snapped, trying desperately not to whine. 

He grinned. “You know, Ing, Dorothea complimented my tongue, but I wonder what kind of review I could get with my hands.”

A flush crept across her body as a vision flashed in her mind of Sylvain’s fingers traversing every inch of her skin. “What does that mean?” she asked, barely catching herself from shifting her hips to try to seek friction. 

He peeled back the top of her jeans and grazed his thumb along the top hem of her underwear. Ingrid’s hips twitched involuntarily and his grin widened. He pulled her jeans down a little bit further and he slowly dragged his eyes up over her body so that he could make eye contact. His right hand slid underneath her only partly removed jeans and his middle finger pressed against the front of her underwear. Ingrid resisted the urge to gasp.

“It means,” he drawled, “that I bet I could make you come with just my hands.”

Ingrid was pretty sure she was never going to speak again. The way that Sylvain was looking at her, bent over her hips with his glasses sliding partway down his nose, and one of his hands holding back the waist of her jeans while the other pressed along her underwear was downright sinful. Still, she refused to let Sylvain win. 

“Sounds like a challenge,” she forced out, her voice surprisingly steady. 

Sylvain’s hand shifted and Ingrid inhaled sharply as he pressed his finger firmly against her underwear and pulled forward in a long line. His eyes were locked on her face as he did it and he was still grinning at her. He did it again and lingered for a moment longer, pressing a fraction harder. 

“Doesn’t seem like it’s going to be too difficult,” he teased lightly. “Can I?” he withdrew his hand and started pulling off her jeans more fully. 

Ingrid lifted her hips and he pulled her jeans down her legs. Ingrid wriggled her legs and he managed to get them peeled off with only mild struggles, tossing them onto the floor somewhere in her room. Immediately, he shifted, moving his whole body down hers so that he was mostly settled between her legs. 

He used his knee to push her legs wider apart and let one hand rest on her hip, stroking over the band of her underwear. His other hand returned to the apex of her thighs, grazing his fingers along her inner thighs and occasionally bumping a knuckle over her clothed clit. Ingrid’s hips hitched and she bit her lip, holding back a breathy moan. 

Sylvain’s palm pressed hard against her hip suddenly, pinning her hips to the bed as he repeated the stroking motion across the length of her underwear. Her hips tried to squirm in his grasp, but he had a fairly solid grip. 

He clicked his tongue on his teeth. “Now, now, Ingrid. I believe you issued me a challenge and it’s one I certainly intend to fulfill.”

He loosened his grip a bit and carefully slid her underwear down. Ingrid was slightly mortified at the wetness of the fabric as he removed it, though the gleam in Sylvain’s eyes betrayed that he was certainly pleased by it. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her hipbone as he pulled her underwear off. Ingrid twitched. 

“I thought you said just your hands,” she said breathily. 

He lifted his head back and stared at her for a second. “Alright, that’s fair,” he conceded. 

Ingrid immediately gasped as his thumb lightly pressed against her clit. Sylvain rubbed a slow circle and Ingrid’s hips jolted. He shifted his weight, using his free hand to pin her hips down again as he dragged his thumb in another slow circle.

After a torturous moment, he slid down, parting through her folds at a painfully slow pace. Sylvain tilted his head and caught her eye again, still smirking. He flicked his thumb through her folds back to her clit and went back to rubbing slow circles. 

“You’re so wet, Ing. When was the last time someone took care of you?”

The roughness of his voice and the absolute filth of the words he was speaking to her caused her thighs to clench and her body to hum. Her cheeks flushed dark and she desperately wished that he wasn’t capable of riling her up as easily as he was.

“None of your business,” she replied. She tried to make her words sharp, but his thumb grazed over her clit again and they came out weak and shaky instead.

“Mm,” he hummed, keeping his pace torturously slow. “I’m going to guess Ignatz and that was almost three months ago.” The knuckle of his index finger ground against her as he slowly increased the tempo of his circles.

Ingrid tried to cant her hips up against his hand, but he held her strong, increasing the pace even more. His knuckle rubbed between her folds as her toes started to curl from the intensity of her heightening arousal. His thumb rubbed hard and fast and she could feel his eyes locked on her face, drinking in her reaction.

Her lips parted and she barely caught a heady moan before it slipped out, changing it into a breathy grunt instead. Her breathing increased as he shifted his hand, sliding more of his fingers against the outside of her while also maintaining the now vigorous pace set by his thumb on her clit.

“Are you close, Ingrid?” Sylvain basically growled to her.

Ingrid’s head tilted back and she let out a gasp. _God his hands were good_. “Yes,” she gasped, caving to him at last.

As soon as she said it, Sylvain twisted his hand, removing the pressure from everywhere except directly on her clit and he slowed his circles back to a slow crawl. Ingrid _writhed_ against him, her body revolting against the sudden change. She had been _so close_ and he had retreated back to almost nothing.

“Sylvain,” she hissed.

“Oh, but it can’t be that simple, can it?” he said teasingly. 

He kept her hips pinned with his hand and then carefully slowed his rubbing motions to a stop. He poked through the very tip of her folds with one finger and held dangerously still. Ingrid tried to shift, to get him to give her any kind of friction, but he both held her in place and moved with her, giving her nothing.

“You’re so wet,” he repeated tauntingly. “I wonder if you’ve ever been this wet for anyone else.” 

He pushed his finger in a little bit, just up to the first knuckle. Ingrid inhaled sharply and tried to lift one of her legs, but his foot locked over hers and kept her pinned where he wanted her.

“You ever get this wet for anyone else, Ingrid?” 

Her body was trembling with the intensity of her desire and she needed him to do something other than just tauntingly hold his finger against her. She gave a shaky moan instead of an answer and Sylvain sunk his finger in further until she was able to clench around it. His fingers were definitely bigger than her own and she was already so much more wound up than she normally got.

“Answer me, Ing,” Sylvain sang. “Have you ever been this wet?”

“No,” she gasped out. “Please, Sylvain,” she added, practically trembling.

He withdrew his finger. “Please, what?” he promoted, flicking her clit.

She gasped again and her legs twitched where he was holding her spread open. “Touch me.”

His finger sunk into her without warning and she keened. Her eyes closed and her hips fought against his hold, but he didn’t move again, staying pressed into her. Slowly, his finger curled, twisting upwards and Ingrid gasped again. The grin on Sylvain’s face was entirely too satisfied but she was not in a position to protest.

Slowly he withdrew his finger and then carefully pumped it back in, curling it at the deepest point. He kept a ruthlessly slow rhythm and made sure not to as much as brush against her clit as he fucked his finger in and out of her. He pressed in particularly hard on one movement and Ingrid finally moaned, her walls clenching around his hand. 

He withdrew again, but when he pressed in again the thickness had increased as he pressed a second finger in. He kept the slow pace, continuing to hold her hips down. Ingrid risked a glance at his face and saw his gaze fixed on the point where his fingers sunk into her body over and over again. 

The desire she had been left teetering on the edge of when he had been stroking her clit began to return in a much quicker build. Sylvain increased the pace a little, changing the angle of his wrist so his fingers pressed deeper into her. Ingrid moaned again.

There was a sudden, warm pressure as he sunk three fingers in and her hand snapped to the wrist holding her hips down and she grabbed it, clenching her fingers. Sylvain paused and looked up at her. 

“Okay?” he asked.

Ingrid didn’t have words so she nodded. He kept watching her as he withdrew slowly. He jabbed forward, sinking in much more quickly and she moaned again, letting her eyes slide shut. He continued the slow withdrawal to quick sheath for several motions, drawing a few more embarrassing gasps and moans from Ingrid as he did so.

“You look good like this Ing,” he said lowly, his voice rough. “Writhing in your sheets and dripping wet for me.” He buried his fingers in particularly firmly and Ingrid keened, her back arching.

Sylvain pulled out slowly. He paused before the next push, his thumb grazing her clit again. She groaned and tipped her head back, pushing against his grip on her hips. 

He shifted the hand on her hip and Ingrid felt a finger stroke her clit again. His fingers pressed into her evenly and she stole a glance. He was now mostly using his forearm to hold her hips as that hand had taken over stroking her clit while he set a pace with his other hand, still fucking three fingers into her.

He increased his pace, curling his fingers against her walls as he drove his hand in and out. His thumb’s pressure increased until Ingrid cried out, giving a particularly loud moan. Her hand thudded against the wall by her bed helplessly and she screwed her eyes shut.

“Sylvain!” she gasped after a particularly hard thrust.

“Come, Ing,” he practically ordered. “I got you.” 

He pressed hard against her clit and she cried out, her legs tensing as her vision whited-out for a moment. She gasped for breath as she came back to herself and Sylvain slowly drew his hand back. He was still gently rubbing her clit through the aftershocks of her orgasm. 

He smirked at her when she finally looked at him and she wanted to smack him. He was so _damn smug_ , but she really, really couldn’t protest since he had just given her the most powerful orgasm she’d ever had using only _his hands_.

“Told you I could do it.”

* * *

Later, when they lay tangled in Ingrid’s sheets, Ingrid felt exhausted. She just wanted to curl up and pass out on Sylvain’s warm chest, but his fingers were tracing circles on her bare shoulders and it was sending tingles down her spine. Unfortunately, Sylvain had definitely given her the best sex she’d ever had in her life and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. 

She’d had three equally mind-blowing orgasms and managed to wring two from her now almost asleep roommate. 

“This isn’t weird, right?” Ingrid asked. She was very aware that their legs were tangled together and her breasts were pressed to his chest. 

He shrugged the best he could. “Don’t see why it needs to be,” he replied sleepily. “We can consider the itch scratched and never talk about it again, if you’d like.”

She bit her lip. Maybe it was because it was late and she was exhausted and maybe it was because she wanted to keep her knowledge of Sylvain’s undeniable skill in the sheets in her back pocket for a little while, but she propped herself up on her elbow and stared down at him. 

“What if we did it again?”

Sylvain’s eyebrows shot up. “And here I thought I’d done a good job already tonight.”

Ingrid swatted his chest. “That’s not what I meant, you idiot.” She bit her lip. Sylvain stroked the back of her arm reassuringly and despite the teasing glint in his eyes, he looked genuine enough. “We could keep it casual and just,” she scratched a nail on the bare skin of his shoulder, “scratch an itch when it needs scratching.”

“Are you suggesting we stay friends and keep bumping uglies whenever one of us is horny?” Sylvain asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Ingrid dropped her head to his chest, groaning. “If you ever say bumping uglies again, I will evict you from this apartment and I will not be sorry.”

Sylvain’s hand skirted up her shoulder and brushed through some of the short blonde hair at the nape of her neck. “It’s just a joke, Ing, I promise. And, if you wanted to do something like that, I’d be open to it with you.”

Ingrid lifted her head up and leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Let’s maybe not sleep with other people though, just to keep everything clean. And honesty about stuff if it gets weird?”

“Course,” Sylvain agreed easily. “You’re one of my best friends, Ing. We’re not going to screw this up.” He kissed her cheek. “Can we sleep now? You’re kind of putting my arm to sleep.”

“Sorry.”


	2. ii - games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid truly doesn't know the effect that she has on Sylvain sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way back in June, someone in the Sylvgrid discord proposed the fact that Ingrid was loud in the bedroom. Immediately after, it was suggested that she could easily (and unintentionally) fluster Sylvain _out_ of the bedroom as well. 
> 
> Time to up my body count with this one, folks...
> 
> I was also told I should add a hydration warning at the top of this chapter so like... maybe get some water ;)

**ii - games**

* * *

“God, why does Dimitri have the worst timing ever?” Sylvain complained. He was leaning against the window of Felix’s car in the front seat, holding his iced coffee like it was a lifeline. 

Felix tore his eyes from the road to glare at Sylvain. “The fact that it’s 8 in the morning or the fact that it’s summer?”

“Summer!” Sylvain exclaimed. “Who asks their significant other to move in with them in August? In the middle of a heatwave, too!” 

He sounded so miserable that Ingrid couldn’t help but laugh. She had been up just as late as Sylvain had the night before, not that they’d ever explain that to Felix, but she didn’t share his natural hatred of all things warm. 

“We promised to help Byleth move three weeks ago, you big baby,” she pointed out, flicking his neck through the hole in the neck rest of his seat. 

Sylvain jolted and twisted to glare at her. “Give me some pity, Ing, I don’t like hot things.”

She bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue. Something about how he called her hot and he liked her just fine, especially when she was on her knees with her mouth–she shook her head, shaking off that line of thoughts. Sylvain had been giving her looks over breakfast that probably would have had her dragging him back to his room if Felix hadn’t arrived home to remind them that they were helping Byleth move. 

Felix pulled over in front of Byleth’s house and stopped the car. He hopped out without a word to Ingrid or Sylvain. Ingrid followed him out, leaving a moping Sylvain alone in the car. Felix was already chatting with Dimitri on the front steps of the house and Ingrid waved. Dimitri smiled back at her and Ingrid heard Sylvain emerge from the car behind her. 

Dimitri and Byleth sent them to work almost immediately and between carrying boxes out to Byleth’s dad’s truck, packing boxes in the living room and kitchen, and moving furniture, they were all breaking a sweat quite easily. It didn’t help that Byleth’s old flat didn’t have air conditioning, meaning that by ten in the morning, it was dreadfully hot. 

Sylvain leaned his arms against the counter, dropping his head down as he huffed. Ingrid sat on the floor near where she and Byleth had been packing books up. Felix pulled his hair into a tighter bun, wrangling it off his neck. Dimitri went to the fridge and began pulling out bottles of water for everyone. 

Ingrid caught hers when he tossed it to her, but didn’t open it right away. Byleth did, taking a long sip and wiping the back of her hand on her forehead. 

“God I’m so glad to be getting out of this place,” she grumbled. “I will not miss it.” Then, she reached for the hem of her shirt and peeled it off, leaving her in a sports bra.

Ingrid immediately looked away, her eyebrows shooting up. Byleth seemed to notice that her action had drawn a lot of attention from the other people in the room and she just raised an eyebrow. 

“What? Are you guys a bunch of prudes? We’ve all seen each other in bathing suits. Ditch the shirts. It’s hot, I don’t care.”

Sylvain shrugged and immediately slid his shirt off. Dimitri’s cheeks were pink, but since he had his girlfriend’s permission, he did the same. Felix just rolled his eyes and drank from his water bottle, staying fully clothed. Sylvain turned around to pick up his own water bottle from the counter. 

Felix whistled, staring at Sylvain’s back. Ingrid frowned and followed his gaze. She immediately had to look away otherwise she knew she would go bright red which wouldn’t be helpful to either of them. Dimitri stared for a moment before he blushed harder and pointedly looked elsewhere. Byleth just laughed loudly and Sylvain turned back to look at them, frowning. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Just wondering what kind of cat you took to bed last night,” Byleth teased, making a claw with her hand. 

Sylvain blinked and reached a hand back, brushing at the red marks on his back which neither he nor Ingrid had actually noticed this morning. It definitely checked out from their activities the night before, but it wasn’t like either of them could actually explain that to their three friends. 

Sylvain just laughed. “Guess she got a little eager.”

Felix wrinkled his nose in disgust, but then he paused. “You were back at the apartment last night and no one stayed over,” he pointed out.

Ingrid opened her water bottle and busied herself with taking a sip so she didn’t have to look at Sylvain. Thankfully, he was a much better liar than she was. He just laughed and stretched his hands over his head. 

“I was at her place. Didn’t wanna stay over, it wasn’t serious,” he replied casually. “I got home late. Right, Ing?”

Oh god, why was he bringing her into this? She glanced at him and almost immediately regretted that choice, her gaze unintentionally and appreciatively raking over sweaty, shirtless Sylvain. He was unfairly hot, even if he wasn’t wearing his glasses today, having opted for contacts this morning. She forced a smile. 

“Yeah I was asleep by the time you came home,” she lied through her teeth.

“I’m going to take this out to the truck,” Dimitri said abruptly, lifting a box from the kitchen floor. 

Byleth stood up, brushing her hands off. “I’ll help you. Felix, Ingrid, can you guys get the desk out the door? And Sylvain you can grab the last box from my office?”

Ingrid positioned herself on the opposite side of the desk from Felix and they made eye contact. “On three,” she instructed. “One, two, three!” They lifted on three and Ingrid grunted heavily. The desk was some heavy, antique piece that Byleth absolutely adored, but it was one of the bulkiest pieces of furniture she owned. 

Ingrid walked forward slowly, letting Felix back up. He bumped into a wall accidentally and the desk was dropped an inch onto Ingrid’s toe. She groaned and shoved it off. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, that hurt!” she swore angrily. 

“Sorry!” Felix said hurriedly, lifting the desk back up. 

Ingrid huffed heavily. “Don’t do that again.” 

Some pained grunts and awkward shifting aside, they managed to get the desk out the door to the front lawn. Dimitri was making a run to his place with the full truck and asked if anyone wanted to go with him. Felix volunteered and so did Byleth. Ingrid agreed to stay back and hold the fort with Sylvain. She wandered back into the living room only to find it empty. 

“Sylvain? Where’d you go? The others are making a run to Dimitri’s place right now,” she called out to the seemingly empty house. 

She wandered down the hallway curiously. She peeked her head into Byleth’s study and saw Sylvain packing a box on the floor. Intriguingly, his ears were bright red. She knocked on the door frame. 

“You okay?”

He stood up and walked towards her, his expression flat. He backed her into the wall and kissed her furiously. Ingrid practically groaned into the kiss as he immediately groped at her ass. She slid one hand into his hair and opened her mouth to his, momentarily lost in the heat of the kiss. After a second, Sylvain pulled back and looked at her, his eyes burning. 

“What are you doing to me, Ingrid?” he growled. 

She stared at him and he pressed his hips forward, grinding his half-hard length against her hip. Ingrid gasped and arched her back as one of his hands kneaded her ass. “What did I do?” she sputtered. 

He leaned his head down and nipped at her neck. “You’re noisy. In bed and here. It’s distracting.”

Ingrid blushed and tried to push Sylvain back, but he was bigger than her and he was determined as he kissed along her neck, sucking and nipping with his teeth. 

“Sylvain, this is literally the worst place we could be doing this. Besides, you’re distracting too!” She ran the hand not in his hair across the toned planes of his stomach and he chuckled. 

“Maybe,” he agreed. He trailed his lips up towards her ear. “But you’d better find a way to get Felix out of the apartment when we get home or you’d better learn to be quiet really quickly.” 

With that, he gently bit into her neck just below her ear and sucked hard. Ingrid moaned, tightening her grip on his hair. He kissed at the spot for another second before he pulled away and stepped away from her. He adjusted the front of his pants and waved his hand at her, almost shooing her away. 

“Let’s just, uh, stay apart for a bit now, okay?”

Ingrid felt her face go bright red and she immediately walked out of Byleth’s study. She hurried back into the living room and continued packing and sorting the box she and Byleth had been working on. She worked for another three minutes before the front door opened and her three other friends arrived back at the house. 

Byleth wandered down the hall to her bathroom and Felix went to help Sylvain in the study. Dimitri picked up a box from the living room and gave Ingrid a funny look. 

“You’re kinda flushed, Ingrid. Are you alright?”

She rubbed at her neck and laughed. “Yeah, yeah, it’s just hot in here. Not as easy for me as it is for you guys,” she said, gesturing between her shirt and Dimitri’s lack thereof. She really, really hoped that the inevitable mark Sylvain had just sucked onto her neck wasn’t already appearing. 

Dimitri shrugged and walked away. Ingrid leaned forward until her head rested against the edge of the box. How the fuck was she supposed to get Felix out of the apartment? It was going to have to be done because if that was the kind of mood Sylvain was in already, she might be in danger of screaming herself hoarse. 

* * *

In the end, things had a funny way of working out. Felix drove the three of them back to the apartment, but on the way, Annette had phoned him, asking if he could pick her up from her tutoring job. Felix had agreed and subsequently laid first claim to the water tank in the apartment. 

They walked into the apartment together and Felix immediately headed for his bathroom, leaving Ingrid and Sylvain alone in the kitchen. They positioned themselves on either side of the counter and Ingrid found herself looking everywhere but at Sylvain and the bedroom eyes he was giving her. 

“I’m sweaty and gross,” she said. “I’m showering after Felix. We can talk after.”

Sylvain’s head tilted to the side and he smirked at her, but he didn’t say anything. It was slightly unnerving, but it also made heat pool in her stomach so it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Neither of them moved the entire seven minutes that Felix was in his shower. They were still standing awkwardly in the kitchen when Felix emerged from his room, wearing a clean shirt and pants. 

He raised an eyebrow at the standoff in the kitchen. “I’m going to get Annette,” he said. “I’ll probably crash at her place again. It’s closer to the gym.”

Ingrid turned her body away from Sylvain and nodded. “We just decided we’re having pizza for dinner. Did you want us to order extra so there’s some for tomorrow?” 

Felix nodded. “Sure. I’ll see you guys later.” He grabbed his keys and disappeared out the front door. Ingrid and Sylvain both watched him for a second. 

Then Ingrid broke for her bathroom. She was fast, but Sylvain’s legs were longer and he got there just in time to catch the door before she could close it. He forced it open and stepped in after her. His hands latched onto her waist and he drew her in before turning and pinning her against the door, closing it. 

He immediately parted her legs with one of his and ground his thigh against her and started working her shirt up her torso. Ingrid groaned into the kiss and began tugging at his shirt as well. After a heated moment, they broke apart and both stripped their shirts off. Sylvain then cupped her face with both hands and kissed her furiously. 

Ingrid stroked her hands over his stomach, appreciating the abs on display for her. Feeling bold, she pulled at the drawstring of his pants, loosening it. She managed to get a hand inside his pants and to palm at his underwear before Sylvain growled and pulled away from the kiss. 

“That doesn’t seem fair,” he grunted as his hips bucked against her touch. 

Ingrid rubbed her hand against his hardening length over his underwear. “Doesn’t it?”

He slid a hand down her back and unhooked her bra. He tugged her hand up and pulled the offending item off before he pressed their torsos together, pinning both of her hands to the door with his own hands. She rocked her hips forward, grinding against him and he mirrored her motion. 

She squirmed against him and managed to get one of her hands free. She slid it down and tugged at the side of his pants, pulling them two inches down over his hips. They caught on his almost fully-hardened length and she had to pry her other hand free to pull them down fully. Sylvain finally cooperated with her, kicking them off when they pooled at his feet. She gripped the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down too, managing to get him to spring free. 

Sylvain chose that moment to retaliate, tugging her own shorts down part way and slipping his hand inside her underwear. He ground his hand against her clit and Ingrid’s legs almost buckled. She gripped him in return, pressing her thumb to his tip before pumping her hand down. Sylvain groaned and his hips bucked forwards, bumping against hers. 

They continued this for a moment, Ingrid pumping him steadily in her hand and him rubbing two fingers against her clit. It almost felt like a test of endurance to see who would give out first. Ingrid bit the inside of her lip and let her head fall back against the door as Sylvain increased his pace a little. 

She twisted her wrist, putting in a wringing motion and Sylvain growled. He leaned his head forward until he could nip at her neck and Ingrid sighed, practically shivering against him. She quickened the pace of her hand, the sliding motion becoming easier and easier with each stroke to his hard length. 

Finally, Sylvain’s hand slowed to a stop against her clit and he exhaled shakily. “Not that I don’t want to pin you against the wall of the shower and take you right there, but the water,” he paused, dropping a kiss on her shoulder, “is not necessarily a benefit for my poor, contact-wearing self.”

Ingrid pumped him twice more and felt a smirk crawl up her face. “So you’re saying I win?”

He lifted his head so that they made eye contact. If she had thought his eyes were hot before, they were absolutely burning brands into her now. 

“If this is a game, you haven’t won anything, sweetheart,” he said. 

Ingrid hardly got a chance to react before Sylvain was sliding his hand free of her underwear. He grabbed the wrist that was still stroking him and pulled it free, drawing it up and pinning it against the door by her head. His other hand snagged her other wrist and pinned it on the other side. Ingrid squirmed against him, but his grip only tightened. She was well and truly trapped. 

He leaned forward, grinding against her and Ingrid let out a breathy moan. Sylvain pressed his chest flat against hers and pushed until she had to relax her hips to ease the curve of her back. He rocked against her again and leaned in so his mouth hovered by her ear. 

“If you want to play a game, I’ll show you a winner.”

He tipped his head and fastened his mouth to her neck, right over where he had sucked a hickey back at Byleth’s apartment. He sunk his teeth in lightly and Ingrid wriggled as her mind blanked so hard that she gasped. He sucked hard, flicking his tongue against the skin there. He gave her a second, smaller mark just below that and Ingrid was fairly sure she was actually going to lose her mind. 

“Sylvain,” she gasped. 

“Hm?” he hummed, lifting his head as he thrust his hips against her, his length sliding between her thighs, dangerously close to the top of her thighs. “Something you have to say, Ing?” She fought him for her wrists, but he just leaned his weight forward, keeping her pinned. He clicked his tongue. “Guess not.”

He moved to bury his face against her neck again and Ingrid gave a shuddering gasp. “Fine!” she snapped. “Just do it!” 

He pressed his lips chastely to the hinge of her jaw and hummed again. “Do what?”

“Fuck me,” she gasped out as his hips snapped forward, rutting against her again. 

Sylvain’s eyes gleamed and he dropped her hands. He immediately shoved her shorts down the rest of the way and she stepped out of them. Sylvain then scooped her up by the bottoms of her thighs and Ingrid jumped, wrapping her legs around him. Sylvain rocked forward again, his length jutting against the only remaining barrier: Ingrid’s underwear. She moaned at the friction and rested her head against his shoulder. 

He let her back rest against the door for a moment longer as his hands kneaded her ass. 

“I think this means that I win since you’re the one who did the begging.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” she tried to argue, but he rocked forward hard and she basically squeaked. 

One of his hands wrapped around and rubbed her clit over her underwear as he pressed another teasing kiss to her shoulder. “I win,” he said again. “And I know how I want you.”

He didn’t hesitate again, holding her by the ass against him as he maneuvered them back from the door and then out of the bathroom towards his room. Ingrid kissed him when they were halfway down the hallway and Sylvain nearly stumbled into the wall as their tongues danced against each other. 

Finally, Sylvain carried her into his bedroom and he put her down on the edge of the bed. He leaned away from her as Ingrid’s legs dropped down from his waist. At first, she almost expected him to guide her hand or head towards him, but instead, he nudged her shoulder, urging her to turn.

She felt a rush of heat as she turned away from Sylvain and crawled further onto his bed. The mattress dipped with his weight as he knelt behind her. His hands bracketed her hips and he rocked forward against her. Ingrid’s hands curled into the sheets so tightly she nearly tore them. 

“Sylvain,” she gasped. 

He laughed behind her as one hand stroked her hip. “You’re good, Ing,” he assured. 

He leaned away from her, his hands leaving her hips momentarily, and she heard the ripping sound from the opening of a condom. Then his hips were pressed flush against her again and she rocked back against him. Sylvain groaned.

“Okay, this has to go,” he growled, snapping the band of her underwear before he drew the band back, pulling her underwear down over her hips. 

Ingrid lifted one leg and then the other as Sylvain slid her underwear off. His hand slid between her legs, reaching from the back as he found her clit again. He rubbed circles around it for a few seconds before he shifted and something thick and warm prodded between her legs. 

“You good?” Sylvain asked her, his voice heavy with his own arousal. 

Ingrid’s toes curled. “I’m good,” she promised. She was still wound up from their previous engagement in the bathroom. 

She twisted her neck to look back at him where he was kneeling behind her. He rocked forward slowly, pressing just the tip of his cock inside of her. Ingrid held her breath as he tilted back and then forward again, pressing further in. He kept the slow shallow thrusts for a few motions, carefully letting Ingrid’s body stretch around him. 

She looked down at her hands on his sheets and rocked her own hips back to meet his next thrust, forcing him to sink deeper than he had before. His tip kissed a spot deeper inside of her and she arched her back, moaning weakly. Sylvain grunted and withdrew before pushing in a bit more quickly this time, his hands tightening around her hips. She clenched her legs unintentionally and squeezed around him and Sylvain groaned. 

“God you feel so fucking good.”

Spurred on by the sound of his voice, she rocked back harder into his next thrust which came with a bit more speed. His hands drew her hips back and forth in choppy motions to meet his thrusts as he began to push harder. Warmth burned in her stomach, building rapidly, and Ingrid moaned as he pressed a particularly snappy thrust in. 

“Fuck, Sylvain,” she moaned. “Like that.”

He repeated the motion and she moaned again. He did it again and Ingrid’s arms almost gave out from holding the weight of her torso. She dropped forward onto her forearms and Sylvain’s next thrust sunk in at a new angle that had them both moaning. 

“When you and Felix moved the desk and you made that moaning sound I wanted to fuck you right there,” Sylvain growled. “You’re lucky I didn’t take you against Byleth’s wall.”

Ingrid gasped as he fucked into her harder. “I wouldn’t have let you,” she bit back breathily. 

Sylvain laughed and snapped his hips forward again. “A good thing, probably.” She clenched her legs and he groaned again. “How are you doing, Ing?”

“Good,” she breathed, rocking back against his next thrust. 

He snapped forward with a burst of strength and Ingrid lurched forward on her arms, gasping out. He repeated the motion and one hand slid around the outside of her hip and found her clit. He rubbed it hard and fast and Ingrid whined and writhed against him as he kept up his brutal pace. With his hand on her clit, it didn’t take long for the heat simmering in her stomach to come to a boil. 

She let out a whining moan as her legs trembled as she tumbled over the peak. Sylvain fucked her through her orgasm for several more strokes before he buried himself in her and ground his hips, swearing loudly. He held her hips tightly for another few seconds before he withdrew slowly. The bed shifted as he stood and left to dispose of the condom. 

Ingrid rolled onto her back and breathed heavily. Sylvain sat on the mattress next to her and leaned over, brushing some of her hair out of her face almost tenderly. He leaned over her, a smile flickering on his face.

“You good?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed.

Sylvain shifted and lay down next to her on the bed. Ingrid crawled towards him and rested her head against his chest. One of his hands started playing with the ends of her hair and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she tried to catch her breath. His other arm wrapped around her waist and held their sweaty bodies together. Ingrid was too tired to complain and he was a comforting warmth against her. 

It felt different this time. The way that he was holding her now was a little beyond the intimacy they’d shared post-sex before. But, she didn’t push him away, even as the thought sent heat rushing to her cheeks. 

She jumped as Sylvain scratched his nail along the bare skin of her back. He laughed at her, his chest rumbling beneath her head. 

“Itch scratched,” he teased.


	3. iii - confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication isn't really either of their strong suits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, while you read this, the sylvgrid discord asked for angst.
> 
> also, get yourselves some water folks ;)

**iii - confession**

* * *

There was a brunette at the bar who kept trailing her fingers down over Sylvain’s arm and Ingrid was pretty sure that she was going to shatter the glass she was holding in her hand. She was clenching it, white-knuckled as she pointedly looked away from the bar, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from trailing back towards her roommate.

She and Sylvain had been sleeping together for almost two months now and somehow their friendship was still intact. Even more than that, they had somehow managed to hide this fact from their friends. Well, for the most part. Felix didn’t know, Ingrid was pretty sure of that fact, and Dimitri definitely didn’t know, but she had a funny feeling that Byleth had figured something out. Dorothea, too, had picked up on the change of tension between Sylvain and Ingrid. 

Ingrid downed the rest of her drink and slammed the glass onto the table, scowling. 

“Yeowch, Ingrid!” Dorothea said as she slid next to Ingrid. “What did the poor table do to you?”

Ingrid bit her lip. Dorothea smelled like tequila and sweat mixed with perfume as she leaned into Ingrid’s space. She turned her head away from her friend and tried to pinch her expression into something subtle. 

Dorothea sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me.” She nudged Ingrid with her elbow. “It is my birthday if that makes you any more likely to actually tell me what’s going on.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. She pointedly didn’t look over at Sylvain, turning so that she was facing Dorothea again. “How is the party?”

Dorothea smirked at her and leaned an elbow on the standing table. “It’s fun. It would be more fun if my darling friend would go take another shot with me and then join me on the dance floor.”

Ingrid sighed but nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Dorothea grinned and led them towards the bar. She forcibly maneuvered Ingrid so that she was next to Sylvain as she ordered them a round of tequila shots. Ingrid kept her eyes on her friend and not on her roommate-with-benefits as she lifted the shot and tapped it against Dorothea’s glass before throwing it back. 

A hand landed on her arm and Ingrid turned to see that Sylvain was looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “You’re good?” he asked. 

She smiled blithely and let her gaze dart to the brunette he had been flirting with who seemed annoyed to have lost his attention. “I’m great,” she agreed. 

She flagged the bartender for another shot and pounded it back too. Dorothea just laughed at her and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the bar and onto the dance floor. Ingrid felt Sylvain’s eyes on her as she squeezed through people onto the dance floor. Dorothea grabbed her hands and pulled them up as they started dancing to the pounding music. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you two or are you going to keep telling me you’re just friends?” Dorothea asked loudly so that she was heard over the music. 

Ingrid wanted to protest, but the alcohol had both loosened her tongue and given her just enough courage to confess the truth. “We’ve been sleeping together since the night with Hilda,” she replied. 

Dorothea laughed. “I knew it! He keeps giving you these looks like he wants to  _ devour _ you,” she said, leaning in so that she could drop her voice down lower. 

Ingrid scowled. “Then why’s he flirting with someone else?”

Dorothea grabbed Ingrid’s hips and spun her. “Maybe he’s trying to push your buttons. If you want to push his, I know the perfect way.”

She leaned in and whispered her plan in Ingrid’s ear. Normal, sober Ingrid would never have gone for it, but Ingrid was drunk and feeling a bit petty and jealous. She kissed Dorothea on the cheek and slid further into the crowd towards what was probably a very bad idea. 

Claude saw her coming and he turned away from the blonde man trying to flirt with him to greet her. “Hello, Ingrid, why might you be gracing me with your presence?” he said, his voice raised over the music. 

Ingrid grabbed one of his hands and pulled him in closer. Their torsos bumped together and the hand that she wasn’t holding landed on her hip. Claude quirked an eyebrow at her bold move, but he didn’t move away. 

“Dance with me,” she said. 

His gaze darted past her to something over her shoulder and then his surprise melted into a cocky grin. “That can be arranged.” 

He took the hands that were connected and guided her hand to his shoulder. He let his other hand drop to her waist and then slid them down over the curve of her hips, keeping them close together on the crowded dance floor. 

Claude was a good dancer and an attractive guy. Ingrid was enjoying their dance well enough before he leaned down so that his lips were right next to her ear. 

“This wouldn’t happen to be a way to stick it to your roommate who is glaring at me like he’s going to rip my arms off, would it?”

Ingrid laughed. “Of course it isn’t.”

“Liar,” Claude teased. “I’m happy to be a distraction for you, Ingrid, just maybe don’t stick around too long or I might actually need stitches.”

She twisted in his grip so that she was facing the other way and Claude shifted seamlessly, sliding his hands to the sides of her ribcage before he ran them down over her waist. The action made her shiver, but it didn’t feel right. What did, however, was the burning gaze of Sylvain from across the bar as he scowled at Claude and Ingrid where they were dancing. 

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, falling into the dance. Sylvain deserved a taste of his own medicine. 

When the dance ended, Claude stepped back from her and gave her his signature trickster grin. He was about to say something when Hilda appeared, grabbing Claude by the arm. She grinned at Ingrid. 

“I’m going to abduct Claude here so he doesn’t get murdered by the red bull heading our way,” Hilda yelled cheerfully. 

She pulled Claude away into the crowd and Ingrid didn’t even have time to turn around before hands closed over her hips and someone pressed up behind her. The feel of this body was one that Ingrid was intimately familiar with and she instinctively ground her hips back in time to the music. 

“What are you trying to do, Ingrid?” Sylvain growled, leaning down to her ear. 

Ingrid resisted the urge to shiver and she just kept swaying to the music. Sylvain’s fingers dug into her hips as he kept them pressed close together. 

“Just dancing,” she replied. 

“That wasn’t dancing.”

“Wasn’t it? I thought Claude and I were doing great,” she snapped in reply. 

She stepped away from him and he let her, spinning her so that she was facing him. Sylvain was indeed looking at her like he wanted to pin her to the wall and ravage her. Ingrid glanced past him to the bar where the brunette he had been flirting with was still sitting, glaring over at Ingrid. 

“Who’s she?” she retorted, feeling petty. 

“Just a girl,” Sylvain said, still looking at her like he wanted to devour her. 

“Why?” 

“Because Felix is being weird about me not flirting with people and I thought we didn’t want him to know,” Sylvain said. “That’s different from you out here grinding on Claude von Riegan of all people.”

Ingrid felt powerful for a moment. He was jealous. Stupidly, blindly jealous. “Not like I had any other options.”

Sylvain stepped into her space and pulled her flush against him. She could feel that he was already half-hard through his jeans and she slid her leg between his, continuing to move to the music. His eyes darkened. 

“We’re going home now,” he said. “I’m going to go say goodbye to Dorothea for us.”

Against her own wishes, Ingrid immediately started walking to the entrance of the bar, pulling her phone out of her pocket to call them a car back to the apartment. She was standing on the curb when Sylvain caught up to her, tucking an arm around her waist. 

“Why did Dorothea tell me to wear a condom?” he asked. 

Ingrid covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. In the fresh air outside the club she was able to realize how thoroughly drunk she was. She gripped onto his arm and leaned down to pull her shoes off. Sylvain held her up as she staggered, pulling off the cursed shoes. She straightened up and patted him on the chest. 

“Thanks.”

A car pulled over in front of them and Ingrid reached out, pulling open the backseat door. She poked her head in. “For Ingrid?”

The driver nodded and she got into the car. Sylvain followed her in and they both did up their seatbelts. It was dark in the backseat of the car as the driver pulled away from the curb and began heading back to their apartment. Ingrid was buzzing, still drunk on both alcohol and Sylvain’s heady attention. She counted to five in her head before she let her hand land on his thigh. 

She slowly walked her fingers along the top of his thigh towards his inner seam and Sylvain went rigid. She trailed her index finger down slowly, applying just the tiniest bit of pressure and she watched Sylvain’s jaw set as he tried not to react. She added a second finger to the motion and he grabbed her wrist, turning a hard gaze on her. She batted her eyes at him and withdrew her hand to her own lap for the rest of the ride. 

She thanked the driver when he pulled over in front of their building and practically shoved Sylvain out of the car. Still holding her shoes in one hand, she ran for the entrance of the building. She punched in their access code and let herself into the lobby. Sylvain followed her, eyes dark and hands tucked into his pockets. They stood side-by-side with their shoulders just barely brushing as they waited for the elevator. 

When the doors dinged open, Ingrid almost tripped walking into it and Sylvain steadied her. She giggled at her own clumsiness and pushed the button for their floor, grabbing Sylvain’s hand and resting it on the side of her hip. He withdrew it and Ingrid turned towards him, tipping her head. With how he had acted earlier, it was out of character. 

The heavy look in his eyes had given way to something more pensive, so she grabbed him by the belt loops and pushed him against the wall of the elevator, stepping on his toes and leaning up to kiss him. He responded eagerly and Ingrid felt better. He wasn’t wimping out on her then. His hand cupped her waist as they continued to kiss as the elevator rose to their floor. 

When it finally dumped them on the right floor, Sylvain pulled back and took her hand, leading her to their apartment. Felix was still at the club and probably wouldn’t be back until later due to Annette’s tendency to stay right until the end of most parties. Ingrid fumbled with her key and eventually Sylvain just reached over and unlocked the door for them. 

She smiled and tugged him into the apartment by the sleeve of his shirt. As soon as they were in the apartment, she closed the door and backed him against it, leaning up to kiss him. Her shoes clattered to the ground and her arms wound around his neck as he pulled her in tightly by the waist.

She pulled her lips away from his to trail them up his jaw as best she could with their height difference before she started on his neck, leaving little bites and kisses as she caressed the column of his throat. Sylvain groaned in his chest, one of his hands coming up to tangle in her hair. 

“Bedroom,” he requested in a grunt. 

Ingrid pulled back, smirking, and almost immediately tripped on the shoes she had just dropped. Sylvain caught her again and frowned. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

She rolled her eyes and patted his shoulders. “I would be better if you weren’t wearing clothes.”

He hesitated, but accepted her answer, bending down and scooping an arm under her knees. She shrieked as he pulled her up bridal style and carried her towards his room. Ingrid laughed and rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes briefly as the world swam from the sudden positional change not agreeing with her drunkenness. 

He set her down on her feet when they were in his room and he closed his door, pulling her in as he leaned against the door. Ingrid started to pull up the hem of his shirt before he could kiss her again, forcing him to shed it. She quickly shed her own shirt as well. While he stripped out of his shirt, she started working on his belt. She hadn’t quite managed to get it open when he grabbed her hands and squeezed gently. 

“Ing, wait,” he said. 

She stopped and looked up at him. “What?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened at the club?”

She swallowed her biting retort about the girl he had flirted with and leaned in so that she pressed against his now bare torso. “No,” she said. “I’ve got an itch that needs scratching.” 

She pressed a kiss to his collarbone and began kissing along the top of his chest, splaying her fingers against his ribcage as she began working down his chest with her kisses. Sylvain’s head thudded against his door. She managed to get his belt open this time and his jeans followed as her lips grazed the top of his sternum. 

She pulled his jeans down to his knees with a swift tug and began palming him through his underwear. His hips jerked and she bent her knees, kissing just above his belly button, hushing him. She began to pull down the waistband of his underwear when he grabbed her hands and forced her to stop. 

“Ingrid,” he said, sounding both pained and turned on. 

She hummed at him, still fiddling with his underwear. “What?”

Sylvain pulled her hands away and stepped around her. She turned and watched him walk and sit on his bed. He put his head in his hands and just sat there for a minute. She stood up and crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. 

“Sylvain,” she said. 

He looked at her and Ingrid was taken aback. The headiness of his gaze that would normally be present in this case was replaced by a genuine tenderness that was startling. 

“What about the girl at the bar bothered you?”

She bit her lip. “Why are we doing this now?”

Sylvain glared at her. “Because, Ingrid! Because I nearly lost my mind the second Claude even thought to put his hands on you tonight. Because it’s not a damn itch for me to be scratching and it never was!”

She recoiled. “What does that mean?”

He dropped his head back into his hands. “You’re drunk, Ingrid.”

“I’m not drunk enough not to make my own damn decisions,” she snapped in reply. “If you didn’t want to do this with me then you should have just said so instead of letting me drop to my knees like another one of your common whores!”

Ingrid didn’t wait to see his reply. She bent down and grabbed her shirt from the floor and stormed out of his room. She slammed her own bedroom door and leaned against it, sinking down to the floor. Her head spun as she banged it back against the closed door. She twisted the shirt in her hands and looked down at it to fold it up only to realize that she had mistakenly grabbed his shirt, not hers. 

She chucked it at the wall and buried her face in her hands. 

She was stupid to think that this idea of hers wouldn’t have ruined their friendship. Their friendship was ruined from the moment that they first kissed on the couch. Ingrid’s head spun as she desperately tried to reign in her emotions. Her face was wet from tears that she hadn’t even realized she was crying. 

Sylvain was a skirt-chaser, a playboy, and a complete flirt. There was no way that he ever would have been able to hold together their stupid arrangement for as long as it did and there was definitely no way that he was feeling as twisted and conflicted as she was. 

Ingrid stood up from the floor, stripped out of her jeans and collapsed on her bed, shoving her face into her pillow.

* * *

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she definitely woke up with a raging hangover that told her she had slept, but not nearly for long enough. She groaned and rolled onto her back, squinting in the light that was coming through her window. Her mouth tasted dry and her head was pounding dully. Ingrid sighed and sat up, reaching for her phone to check the time. 

It was almost ten and she shook her head, standing up. She needed a glass of water. 

Ingrid quickly pulled on her pyjama shorts and tank top so that she was kind of presentable. She had her hand on her doorknob, about to open her door when she spotted the discarded shirt on her floor and she winced as all the memories from the previous night came rushing back in a flood. She frowned and left her room. 

She rubbed her temples as she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. She took a long drink from it, almost chugging half the glass before she noticed that Felix was sitting on the couch, staring at her. She put the glass down on the counter. 

“Why was Sylvain being an ass this morning?” Felix asked. “He was a dick on his way out to the library.”

Ingrid shrugged and tried to play it off. “We had an argument after we got home last night.”

Felix rolled his eyes and reclined on the couch. “Is this about you two sleeping together and pretending like everyone doesn’t already know you’re in love with each other?”

Ingrid stared at him. She almost knocked her glass into the sink as she tried to pick it up because her hands were shaking so badly. “What?”

Felix huffed. “Please just work it out and date him. He’s like a mopey cat whenever you shy away from his touches. I’ve known for over a month. Neither of you is subtle.”

Ingrid flushed and downed the rest of her water. She still had a headache. She put her glass in the dishwasher. “I’m going back to bed,” she muttered and quickly retreated back to her room. 

She flopped back onto her bed and let out a long sigh. This was going to be awkward as fuck whenever Sylvain came back from the library because she certainly didn’t want to talk to him about what had gone down between them the night before. 

She managed to fall back asleep for a few hours until she was awoken by a knock on her door. She started in her bed, twisting in her sheets until she was sitting up, staring at the door and the very awkward looking Sylvain leaning against the side of her door frame. Ingrid tucked her legs up so she was sitting cross-legged and folded her arms, biting her lip. 

“Hi,” she said.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he began. 

She shrugged. “I should be up.” She checked her clock. It was almost one-thirty in the afternoon and she winced. “I should have been up a while ago actually.”

Sylvain smiled faintly. “Hangover?” She nodded. He stepped into her room. “Can we talk about what happened last night?”

Ingrid pointed to his shirt where it was sitting, folded, on her desk. “Sorry I grabbed that.”

He sighed. “Ingrid.”

She frowned. “Fine.”

He walked over and sat on the foot of her bed, leaving space between them. “I think I worded what I was trying to say last night poorly.”

Ingrid pressed her lips together. He had been plenty clear. “I don’t think so.”

Sylvain laughed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re glaring at me like I need a lecture. That tells me that something about what I was trying to say last night came out wrong. Can I try again?”

She uncrossed her arms and dropped them into her lap, fiddling with the hem of her pyjama shorts. “Okay,” she mumbled. 

“Ingrid,” he began, “I am a uselessly jealous person a lot of the time. When you danced with Claude last night, I was horribly, horribly jealous. I wanted to break every bone in his hand for touching you, but I am also a hypocrite. I didn’t flirt with the girl at the bar for Felix’s sake. I did it because I wanted  _ you _ to be jealous.” He smiled almost shyly at her. 

“I was,” she blurted out. His eyebrow darted up and she closed her eyes. “I was jealous,” she admitted. “That’s why I danced with Claude in the first place.”

Sylvain leaned towards her a little bit. “And that’s more what I wanted to get at.”

Sylvain was entirely too close to her now. Ingrid stood up off her bed and headed for the entrance to her room. She put a hand on the door frame and looked back at him. “I’m hungry. Can we continue this chat in the kitchen?”

Sylvain’s gaze was fond and she looked away so she didn’t have to see it. She walked briskly into the kitchen and the creak of the floor behind her told her that Sylvain was following her. She moved to the fridge and pulled out a container that held some leftover pizza from before they had gone to the bar for Dorothea’s birthday.

She didn’t bother to warm it up, just pulling out a slice and biting into it as Sylvain watched her from the other side of the counter. She chewed slowly, waiting for him to resume the conversation where she had abruptly cut it off in her room. 

“I never wanted our thing to just be us scratching an itch for each other,” Sylvain admitted suddenly. 

Ingrid almost choked. She coughed and then swallowed before frowning at him. “Then what was the point, Sylvain? Why did you even sleep with me in the first place?”

“Because you asked. And because I wanted to.” He leaned on the counter, his eyes smouldering. 

Ingrid took the last bite of her pizza and frowned. “You’re giving me mixed messages here.” She leaned forward, unconsciously, so they were almost nose-to-nose.

“Let me spell it out then, just so you don’t storm out on me this time,” he offered. She was almost offended, so he quickly continued his explanation. “It’s not that I don’t want us to keep fucking, Ingrid, but rather that I don’t want us to  _ just _ keep fucking.”

She blinked, surprised. Felix’s words from the morning echoed in her brain and her face went red. She quickly leaned back. “Oh.”

Sylvain tilted his head to the side, a bit like a cat, and smiled. “Do you get it now?”

She buried her face in her hands. “How are you so smooth about that?”

Footsteps tapped on the floor until hands gently tugged her hands away from her face. She looked up at him. 

“Every time I think about telling you the truth I feel like I’m going to be sick. And, Ingrid, I should have told you two months ago before we started doing any of this, but I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you.” His eyes darted around her face, his hands still loosely holding her wrists.

“Told me what?” she asked, almost wondering if she could pry it out of him. 

He laughed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled. 

“Alright, Ingrid, I don’t want to scratch the itch with you anymore. I want to take you on dates and cuddle you on the couch and kiss you whenever I like. I want to dance with you at clubs and buy you dinner and hold your hand,” Sylvain said, looking straight into her eyes. 

Ingrid leaned up and kissed him, cupping the back of his neck with a hand. Sylvain hummed into the kiss and pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips, coaxing them open. He slid a hand to her waist and then to her back, slowly inching up her tank top. 

Then he leaned back from the kiss and smiled at her lazily, tapping his fingers against the base of her spine. Ingrid frowned. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

Sylvain kissed the tip of her nose and she wrinkled it in response. 

“Just thinking about how long I’d been sitting on that one trying to tell you.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What?”

He leaned down, kissing along her jaw and her fingers tangled in his hair by reflex as he began to work his way along her neck with his kisses. She tilted her head back and to the side so he had clearer access.

“I tried to tell you that you were beautiful on your birthday and fucked that up. I wanted to kiss you at Felix’s birthday. I tried to ask you out in March but then you were seeing Ignatz,” he explained between kisses.

Ingrid’s stomach warmed. “Oh,” she replied faintly. “I kind of just realized I wanted to sleep with you when Hilda and Dorothea brought it up over drinks.” 

Sylvain laughed and nipped at her neck. “I hope that’s not the only thing you want to do with me now.”

“No,” she agreed. “I want to do all the other stuff too.”

Sylvain leaned back and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. He was grinning widely in that cheeky, childish way that wasn’t his flirting face but it was still immensely attractive. 

“I love you,” he said. “Date me?”

She laughed and leaned up to kiss him lightly. “I love you too.”

Pulling back, she glanced around the apartment kitchen. From where she stood, she could see Felix’s bedroom door was closed, but she didn’t think he had left the apartment. She stepped onto his toes and pressed their bodies flush together, trailing a hand down to just barely graze over his groin.

“We got interrupted by our own stupidity last night,” she said quietly, leaning in so she was almost whispering.

One of Sylvain’s hands palmed at her ass, pressing them further together as he shifted his hips in a slow circle. His eyes were darkening and he grinned down at her. 

“My stupidity,” he corrected. “Maybe we should reconcile that fact right now, right?”

Ingrid stepped back, taking his hand. “Good plan.”

She tugged him by the hand towards Sylvain’s room. Her room was closer to Felix’s and she figured she owed him at least a little bit of courtesy, even if the thought made her completely embarrassed and horrified to think about. Sylvain followed her into his room, closing the door before he dropped her hand and walked over to his bed. He sat down and spread his legs. 

Ingrid stepped into the space he left and he tugged on her waist, pulling her closer. Even though he was sitting, he was still tall enough that she could just bend down a little to kiss him. They kissed for a few seconds before Sylvain began inching her shirt up. Ingrid hummed into the kiss and began pulling at the neck of Sylvain’s shirt as well. 

He leaned away from her, gently pushing on her waist to move her back from him just enough that he could grab at her pyjama shorts and pull them down. Ingrid rolled her eyes, but she shimmied the rest of the way out of her shorts. Sylvain smirked at her and leaned back, resting his weight on his hands as he admired her. 

Ingrid put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He laughed and shifted, reaching for his phone which was balanced on his nightstand. He tapped out something on it before he dropped it and pulled her back towards him by her hips. She frowned as she planted her hands on his shoulders. 

“What was that about?”

“I was giving Felix a five-minute warning,” he explained, sliding her tank top up over her stomach slowly. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her stomach as he exposed the skin. 

“Five minutes until what?” she asked, threading her fingers through his hair. 

“Five minutes until I pin you to the wall and make you scream.”

Ingrid blushed, but she managed to pull Sylvain back and push on his shoulders until he relented, crawling back onto the bed so that he was lying on his back. Ingrid followed him, straddling his waist as she leaned over him, kissing him firmly. Sylvain’s hands wandered, pushing up her shirt and picking at the waistband on her underwear. 

She pulled back first, not giving him the satisfaction of removing more of her clothes and she tugged on his shirt. “Off,” she ordered. 

Sylvain smirked and sat up just enough to strip his shirt off. Ingrid immediately set to work on his neck, pressing her teeth lightly against the skin of his neck. She sucked gently and one of Sylvain’s large hands cupped the back of her neck, teasing at the end of her hair. Ingrid shifted, dragging herself down his body as she pressed kisses along his collarbone. 

A low grunt caught in Sylvain’s throat as she kissed along the edge of his collarbone, letting her tongue gently trace the ridge on his skin. She smirked to herself and continued working down his chest, kissing down the centre slowly. She tilted her head when she was about halfway down and saw that Sylvain was watching her, his hands now behind his head, and he looked like he was about five seconds away from flipping her onto her back. 

She pressed a palm against his stomach and pushed until he was flat on his back again. “Stay.” 

Ingrid returned to her previous path, kissing along the groove of his annoyingly attractive abs. Sylvain twitched underneath her, but he did as she asked, staying flat against the mattress. Her arm brushed over his prominently hard length as she moved down and she was sure to flatten her chest against him as she continued working her way slowly down his abs.

“Ingrid,” Sylvain finally groaned, his hips bucking slightly. “Come on.”

She grabbed the waist of his joggers and his underwear together and tugged. “Hips up,” she instructed. 

He obeyed and she pulled his underwear and pants down until his cock sprang free. She shoved his pants down further and he shifted underneath her, wriggling until he was able to kick them completely free. Ingrid hovered over him and Sylvain groaned again. He raised one of his hands, reaching for her, and she swatted it back. 

She closed one hand over him and pushed down in slow, twisting motion. Sylvain cursed and his hips bucked underneath her. Ingrid laughed to herself and gave him another long and slow stroke. He was already twitching underneath her so she decided not to torture him. She pressed a slow, sucking kiss to his tip and Sylvain groaned. 

She swirled her tongue around the tip, making sure that Sylvain could see the heat in her eyes as she did it and she pumped him again. She sucked the tip of his cock, using one hand to stroke the underside while her other hand kept her propped up over him. Slowly, she slid down, taking more of him into her mouth. She withdrew and repeated the motion, trying to hold eye contact with Sylvain who looked torn between moaning her name so loudly their neighbours would hear and slamming her back against the wall. 

Ingrid sped up her pace just a bit, curling her hand around the base of his length as she bobbed her head along, letting her tongue draw curses and spiteful groans from Sylvain. One of his hands finally came up to tangle in her hair as he guided her a little faster. Ingrid relished in the twinge of pain as he tugged on her hair and she pulled up in a sharp sucking movement, drawing her hand along with her. 

Before she could sink back down, Sylvain’s hand slid to her shoulder and he basically shoved her off. He rolled them, pulling Ingrid up so that they were nose-to-nose. Ingrid smirked at him, gently touching the top of his hairline where a bit of sweat had built up. 

“Worked up?” she teased. 

He pressed a bruising kiss to her lips, sliding his tongue forward. Ingrid tangled one hand in his hand and let the other roam over the muscles in his back. Eventually, Sylvain leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows and he just barely caught her hand before it drifted down to grab at his length again. 

He laughed. “Come on Ing, if we keep going like this I’m not going to have anything left in the tank for you, gorgeous.” He kissed her jaw. “Let me take care of you first.”

He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the mattress as he kissed down her neck, nipping occasionally and then soothing with his tongue. He let go of her arms when he reached the crook of her chest and he pulled her tank top up, finally taking it off completely, but then he pushed her right back down against the mattress as he kissed across her stomach. 

“So gorgeous,” he breathed as he kissed below her bellybutton, his fingers playing with the edge of her underwear. 

Ingrid squirmed and he laughed, just slotting a hand between her legs and letting her grind against him for a moment before he withdrew his hand and started peeling her underwear down. He kissed along her hip and then down her right leg as he pulled it down and Ingrid shivered as his breath fell against her inner thighs. 

Sylvain let her kick her underwear off and then he pushed her legs apart, settling himself between them. He used his right hand to find and softly press against her clit which had Ingrid bucking her hips against him. Sylvain hummed and leaned down so that he was breathing directly on her and she gasped and wriggled against him, trying to get him to do anything else. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Then he leaned forward and Ingrid forgot how to breathe. His tongue pressed flat along her lips as he just barely touched her. His thumb circled her clit again and his nose poked against it. She sighed and moved one hand to tangle in his hair. His tongue poked through her folds with a little more force and Ingrid gasped at the sensation. 

He pressed in again and then withdrew, pressing his face forward into a slow roll and Ingrid moaned loudly. His nose brushed her clit and his mouth continued its sucking pace against her. She felt the briefest graze of teeth before his tongue returned, a slow and wet noise filling the room. 

Ingrid’s breathing was heavy in her own ears as one hand tugged at Sylvain’s hair and the other twisted in his sheets. There was a heat pooling quickly in her stomach and she let out another shaky moan as he sucked particularly hard, accompanying it with a firm stroke against her clit. 

“Sylvain,” she whined. 

He hummed against her, nipping at her again. He continued to lick and suck at her until she was writhing above him, gasping and whimpering. If she had had any sense left, she would have been horribly worried that Felix hadn’t left the apartment yet. Sylvain nipped her clit and she jolted, his name spilling from her lips in a moan. 

Sylvain lifted his head a bit and smirked at her. The bottom half of his face was shiny and Ingrid’s thighs clenched. She whimpered and tugged at his hair. He laughed but got the message. His other hand came up and he slid a finger into her smoothly. He left it sheathed in her as she twitched around him, shuddering with pleasure. His lips replaced his thumb on her clit as he slowly pumped in and out of her, circling her nub with his tongue. 

He added a second finger slowly, curling them at the deepest point and Ingrid’s toes curled as she moaned again. Sylvain sucked hard at her clit and she arched her back, gasping. He increased the pace of his fingers, driving them into her harder as his tongue and lips bullied her clit. 

Like an elastic, something snapped in her and her thighs clenched, tightening around his head as she came with a gasp. Sylvain withdrew his hand slowly, but continued tracing lazy circles around her clit as she came down from her high. Still crouched between her legs, he peered up at her, smirking. 

“Good?”

She rolled her eyes and tugged on his arm, drawing him back up. “You know it is.”

He leaned down to kiss her and she wrinkled her nose pushing his shoulder so that he missed. “Rinse your mouth and grab a condom dummy,” she said. To entice him, she gripped him and gave him a few quick pumps. 

His hips stuttered atop her and he groaned. “Alright, alright.”

He rolled off of her and disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. She rolled onto her side and watched his finely-shaped naked ass as he ran water in the sink, splashing it across his face and rinsing out his mouth. She smiled as he turned back towards her, his length bobbing tauntingly. He raised an eyebrow at her and he strode back towards her, pausing at his desk to grab a condom from one of his drawers. 

Ingrid sat up on the bed as he approached and she took him in her hand again, pumping once slowly before giving him a few quicker strokes. She held up her free hand and he put the condom in it. She tore it open with her teeth and rolled it onto him, massaging him a bit as she did. Sylvain grunted as she did so and she smirked. 

“Come here,” she beckoned, tugging on his arm as she leaned back, pulling him on top of her. 

Sylvain rolled on top and kissed her shoulder. He drifted a hand between her legs and stroked her centre. She was still plenty wet from his earlier work so his fingers glided through without resistance and she shivered. She lifted her knees and canted her hips up, grabbing at his shoulder. 

Sylvain lowered his hips against her until the tip of him was sheathed in her. Ingrid exhaled at the pressure before she nodded, urging him to continue. Sylvain pressed forward, pushing in slowly until he was all the way in. He lifted one hand to her breast and massaged it as he withdrew and Ingrid lifted her hips, instinctively chasing him. 

He pushed in faster on the next thrust and she let out a breathy moan. Sylvain kissed the side of her face and adjusted his grip on her breast as he set an easy, rolling pace that had their hips snapping together. At this angle, he wasn’t going as deep as he could, but it still felt incredible. Ingrid lifted her knees, rolling her hips against him and he increased the pace a bit. 

Sylvain squeezed her breast one more time before dropping his hand and grabbing her legs, lifting them up towards his hips to change the angle. On his next thrust, Ingrid moaned as he sunk deeper. The heat he had released earlier was already starting to build again and she rolled her hips with him. 

Sylvain grunted heavily. “You’re so beautiful, Ingrid. So good and wet for me.” 

He lifted her legs a bit higher and she lifted her hips, practically throwing her leg over his shoulder. Sylvain grinned wickedly as he adjusted her, resituating them before he snapped forward. Ingrid gasped. 

“God!” she cried desperately, trying to rock against him, but with her legs where they were, she had lost the last of her leverage.

Sylvain slammed forward again, picking up the pace until it was almost brutal. He kept a tight grip on one leg with his left hand, but he dropped his right hand down, fumbling to find her clit. He thrust into her hard and rubbed furiously at her clit. Sylvain kept his furious pace, slamming his length into her over and over. Ingrid’s hands lashed out, grabbing his forearms and digging her fingernails into his forearms. 

Sylvain grunted and hefted her legs even higher. His next thrust sunk so deeply that Ingrid saw stars. She dropped his arms and cried out, her hands flailing for a minute before they settled on her own chest. She squeezed her breasts as he continued fucking her. His thumb stuttered on her clit and he groaned, approaching his own climax. 

He bent forward, pressing Ingrid’s legs up at an awkward angle. She thanked every god she could think of for her trained flexibility as Sylvain practically bit into her shoulder. She moaned and squeezed her own chest again. Sylvain shifted, adjusting his thrusts to a shallower position and he latched his mouth onto the top of one of her breasts, sucking a hickey onto it. Ingrid cupped the breast he wasn’t working at and tugged on his hair. He dropped her legs down and reached over to pull her hands out of his way as he replaced her hands with his own, groping her chest. 

His mouth fastened over a nipple and Ingrid whimpered. She dug her fingernails into his back and planted her feet on the mattress now that he wasn’t holding them suspended up. She rocked up into him and Sylvain groaned. He pulled off her chest with a wet pop and slammed into her firmly again, grinding his hips in a heavy circle. His gaze was so hot and aroused that it almost made her come immediately as he pulled a hand back to her clit. 

Sylvain scooped up her right leg, rolling her partway onto her side. He furiously rubbed at her clit and Ingrid let out a long, breathy moan. Sylvain’s pace increased back to his previous furious pace. 

“Fuck, Ingrid. I love you,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight and so good.” 

He thrust into her a few more times and the heat in her stomach erupted as she came for a second time, practically wailing as she cried out his name. 

Sylvain, once he saw he had gotten her there, adjusted her legs and set a brutal driving pace, fucking into her even harder. He growled and slammed in one last time before grinding his hips in a long circle as he trembled above her. He practically dropped her leg and Ingrid squeaked as they unceremoniously crashed to the mattress, Sylvain’s weight nearly crushing her. 

Sylvain winced and slowly withdrew. “Sorry,” he muttered as he drew himself out. 

He climbed off of her, slipping away to dispose of the condom. Ingrid was still buzzing in the aftermath of her second orgasm so she could barely do anything but slide towards the wall on the bed, leaving space for Sylvain to rejoin her when he got back. It only took him a second to return and he crawled onto the bed next to her. 

He kissed her on the lips before he kissed her on the cheek and then over her eyelid. He cradled her face for a second before slipping his hand down and squeezing the breast he had worked his mouth on lightly. Ingrid squeaked, sensitive, and he laughed, pulling back so that he was looking down at her. 

“You don’t have one more in you, Ing?”

Her face was flaming red, but she just reached out and nudged his no-longer erect cock. “Don’t talk to me about that shit,” she retorted. 

He laughed and laid next to her on the bed, rolling so that his head was pressed into the crook of her neck. He kissed her collarbone and threw an arm over her waist. He nuzzled against her and Ingrid twisted her fingers through his soft hair, smiling fondly. 

“I love you,” she said to him. 

He hummed happily. “I love you too.” Another kiss to the base of her neck. Then a bite. 

She jumped, her fingers yanking his head back. “Hey!”

He laughed. “I love you,” he repeated. 

She rolled her eyes. “You said that.”

“It’s worth repeating.”

He scratched the skin of her stomach lightly and she twitched, slapping at his hand. 

“Stop it!” she scolded. 

Sylvain kissed her and the rest of her complaints died as she kissed him back. It was slow and lazy and made her warm right to her toes. He leaned away from the kiss after a minute, smiling down at her. She ran her thumb along his cheekbone. 

“I can’t believe we were so stupid,” she mumbled. 

He laughed. “At least we had some really great sex while we were being stupid.”

She pinched him, but leaned up to kiss him again. “Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone really thought i was capable of angsting this fluffy mess, then yikes. Remember, I will fluff _everything_ and I am not ashamed of this fact.
> 
> for a first nsfw project, i will say... this went better than i thought it would. we may see more in the future ;)


End file.
